


Oh, Geez. I Wonder Why

by AquariusKaT



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cockblocking, Just the butler and children wanting their prickly hedgehog Bruce to themselves, No beta (We die like Dead Robin's Club), Possessive Behavior, Rating just for word choices, mildly dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquariusKaT/pseuds/AquariusKaT
Summary: Bruce Wayne can't seem to get himself laid... And only the culprit(s) know why.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Oh, Geez. I Wonder Why

It was never clear how Brucie Wayne’s relationships ended. And no, that (typically) didn’t include the late night, one-night stands where the man found a lady (or two, or three, maybe a guy) and whisked them away to a saucy, sizzling, moonlit time in bed to share and- Well, everyone and their not so innocent little old grannies get the gist…

No, the real mystery was when long time girlfriends suddenly decided enough was enough and broke up. Oh sure, there were rumors abound and hushed, gossipy theories to be found, but no one knew the truth. The Prince of Gotham was normally clueless as usual, and the ladies that nuzzled close and enjoyed dinners by candle and moonlight were silent for why the weeks to months long courting ceased out of the blue.

Only the culprit, later culprits, knew the truth behind Bruce Wayne’s status as a single man. And while the man was certainly hopeless enough at the romance game, it wasn’t the only obstruction.

It started young, just after the overwhelming grief of Thomas and Martha Waynes deaths. Their son became prickly in his depression, much like a hedgehog curling to protect its soft belly and snorting at those that came too close to his personal space. During this time, only one man managed to wade through it all calmly. Alfred Pennyworth.

And with that, it began.

Bruce, who should’ve been going through therapy, instead learned to bottle his emotions. It was the start of the child’s poor emotional inhibit, which only got worse with age. But before that, was how the child depended upon his butler so needily. Not only was Alfred someone providing for him, but he was also a constant presence, a stable pillar and source of solace to the worn and weary boy.

And without the young master knowing, Bruce became a reassurance to the aging old man who had lost not only his employers but also his closest of friends in the blink of an eye. This child, clinging to him like a security blanket, sparked something in the British gentleman. A need to keep his young master close, safe from the vultures and feral hounds in Gotham. Dissuade even fate and death from taking this small life from him.

Bruce never knew while growing just why the girls he’d bring home avoided him afterwards. After all, he’d never seen the sharp, cold politeness that chilled them when Alfred greeted them at the door. Like a jagged shard of ice, honed like a frosty stake to their hearts.

Nor was he aware of the subtle remarks meant to callously destroy anyone who dared to get close to the young Wayne. It was just mordant, British humor after all, wasn’t it?

No, Bruce simply moved on from the rejections with teeth shining grins and boisterous laughter that hid the cuts that still bled underneath it all. He never did fully grow from his parents’ deaths… never did forget the injustice of it all. But “Brucie Wayne” was something he could rely on to mask that hurt. Get people to stop cooing and whimpering like shots to his aching heart when they’d blubber their sympathies.

It still got old, though… And he was thankful once he was of age just to leave it all behind in his quest to train. A small thought began shaping in his mind, blooming into something dangerous but satisfying for the vengeance in his soul. Alfred was distraught, but the old man had raised Bruce so it wasn’t a surprise that seeing his young master (his son) leave… It was expected as it was heart-wrenching.

Alfred became all the more coddling when Bruce returned. Warm smiles and dry British humor mixing into a sarcastic snark that caused the now young man to roll blue eyes good naturedly at his butler’s wit. Oh, and there were tense moments as well… But those moments came from Bruce’s appeals to become Gotham’s vigilante. Even after the Batman had finished being realized and appraised by the streets and people, Alfred’s mingling concoction of pride and disappointment rested in the air in subdued tones.

(And, you know, maybe the stitches got a little more painful… Bruce was sure Alfred had given him anesthetic for that gash in his side he got from Killer Croc?)

As for the social life of Brucie Wayne… Even now, he could not fathom why the women leave his mansion nuzzled in their coats and galumphing out in their pricey stilettos as if Jack Frost himself was nipping at their heels.

Months passed. Batman’s name lingered on the tongues of Gotham, stories ranging depending on whose mouth it fell from in tones from awed whispers, to disgruntled grumbles, and from most common crooks a sense of dreadful fear whimpered in whining squeals. Haley’s Circus arrived to this city of feral depravity, expecting it to be like any other pitstop on their show road tour.

What happened instead was the heavy stench of copper cloying in the back of everyone’s throats and red so dark pooling around tragedy and heartbreak.

The circus left, leaving a family behind in its broken backwash. Bruce fostered the orphaned trapeze artist, picking him up from the Juvenile Detention Center with red clouding his eyes because Gotham’s governments proved yet again their leaking systems in regards to the people living in the city. Another child’s heart shattered as their parents are murdered in front of them… Another urchin failed by the officers and social workers who should’ve done their jobs better.

Let it be stated. After picking up his ward, Wayne Enterprises and the man himself spearheaded movements for better living arrangements to those minors with nowhere else to go. (Later, in the years to come, it grew to include even the homeless adults needing help to pick themselves back upon their feet.)

It was up to both Bruce Wayne and Batman to give Richard “Dick” Grayson what was owed to the child. The wealthy businessman provided for the adolescent’s basic needs and the understanding to help the transition of mourning; the dark knight would bring to justice Tony Zucco who crafted this transgression against the Flying Graysons.

He hadn’t counted on Dick being stubborn… hadn’t counted on him going after the murdering gangster himself… and most certainly hadn’t counted on Robin being born from the mounting mess that came from the addition to his life.

By the same token, Bruce wasn’t going to discredit the way having someone on the field with him was a blessing, either. Hearing those god-awful puns and seeing the lad flipping and swinging as if all of Gotham was a circus act released some of the stone-hard emotions congesting within his heart. Not only that, but the tender moments they’d curl on the couch to watch television to the times Bruce had a whimpering, sniffling Dick nuzzled against him in the master bed due to nightmares…

Bruce didn’t even notice the drop of cozying ladies looking for a night of pleasure when Dick was nearby. His eyes were more on his charge’s bright antics and impish, lovable grins. The vibrancy in his life since his “memorable” birthday so many years ago…

So of course, he’d miss the sharp looks and possessive clinginess of his child when they were enjoying the galas and events together. In his mind, if he ever took notice of the smaller amount of offers for intimacy, it was simply because he had a child that dissuaded people from getting close. Never his sunshine boy looking at the swooning admirers as if daring them to just try and take the older man away from him.

Alfred disagreed, and gladly gave Dick an extra treat here and there anytime he heard the murmured whisperings of how protective the boy was. Even those who took the unspoken challenge would begin to hear a cheery cackle and soon become front row audience to the playboy having his arms full with a just caught boy who had been soaring through the air.

By then, whatever flirtatious conversation had was lost. Instead, Bruce would shake his head, tittering at the child as he humorously scolded the little acrobat to mind his manners. No… There would be nothing to come then. Not with the pure, wholesome love on display for all to see. It was just too obvious the child won, and Wayne would return home to rewatch old classics such as The Grey Ghost or some campy series the Graysons tuned in to learn just how to be over the top in their dramatics.

It was no wonder why there had been malicious relief to hear the child had not only grown, but left to be a cop in Blüdhaven. Perhaps now, the airheaded rich boy could return to his partying ways…

If only the gutter trash known as Jason didn’t wrecking ball himself into being Bruce’s newest son. No one was quite sure how it’d happened, but one evening ball and there he was dressed to the nines with the attitude of a scrappy street mongrel with fangs bared to outsiders.

And Bruce stood beside him, hand on the kid’s shoulder with his thumb worrying soothing circles into the tuxedoed appendage. By this time, a new Robin took to the streets and Gotham’s sister city gained itself the vigilante known as Nightwing. And yet, no one connected the clues hidden in plain sight before them. (Well, almost no one. Not a soul in the Wayne family knew of the little child with hitched in excitement breathing and wide, curious eyes that flickered in their direction on the rare occasions he got to be at these parties. Providence declared it wasn’t time yet…)

Jason was a snarly thing, especially sending his baleful glares towards the women reeking in their heady perfumes and dripping saccharine words as their hips swayed to entice. It was nothing against the females themselves, as his own mother did what she could to provide, but they’d simply chosen the wrong target. Bruce was his dad, much as Catherine was his mom. (And how ironic that thought would be, months down the line when he realized his birth mother was actually the bitch known as Shelia.)

Even during his final moments… Even when he returned only to be crushed that the scumbag Joker still lived… Even when they never saw eye to eye. Bruce was his Dad. And like hell some chick or any romantic partner could sashay their way in and steal from him the precious time he got with the old man.

Unlike Dick, in his carefree and attention-nabbing ploys… Unlike Alfred, in his sniping methods of frozen tundra to ice out unwanted bugs… Jason was quite comfortable keeping Bruce’s attention on him by keeping away the pests with a gnash of teeth and spat of flaming retorts like a dragon hoarding the monarch away from snobbish elites and shiny armored knights who’d never fought a day in their lives. A direct approach that Bruce noticed, but never fully understood.

And if he was awarded by their pseudo-grandfather with secret treats and voicing out theatric scenes in the kitchen as they cooked or had their hot tea, then all the better in his eyes.

When tragedy struck, and Bruce mourned the loss of Jason, it was the prime opening needed. No one cared about the reckless endangerment Batman placed himself in, just that he’d gotten darker and more violent in his attempts to curb crime. No, now it was Bruce whose heart was fractured and he didn’t have the spark in him to look for bedding partners. The perfect time, really, to squeeze in and heal that hurt while gaining trinkets of love and money for whatever desired.

Whenever someone started to slip into those chasm-sized cracks, there was a sudden call from phone, server, or even by speaker to whisk them or Bruce away. (Just how was it possible for the speakers to blare out about a missing dark blue Tesla that one Miss Winston conveniently drove in with? And let’s not forget the time Mrs. Blake’s phone rang with a call from her husband who was abroad still.)

Of course, it was something not thought of by the downtrodden billionaire. Though when it came time for one Tim Drake to reveal himself (“Batman needs a Robin!”), it was Alfred who took it in stride and tried to warm the master to the idea of allowing the child permittance to stay.

And if the old caretaker had gotten Dick Grayson to help, all the better.

There was a clash. This new Robin was completely unwanted, but most certainly he wasn’t unneeded. It was just the opposite as Tim push and huffed and stubbornly stood his ground just as well as Bruce when he was that young age. Both in and out of the costumed suit, Alfred and Dick saw how much better their prickly hedgehog named Bruce became as well as the new methods employed to bat away the parasites aiming for the slowly rebuilding man.

Batman became tamer… But most importantly Bruce became safer.

Tim seemed able to pinpoint just where the wayward Wayne was and knew just how to manipulate the people and technology around them to work in his favor. Few times did the child go in himself to suddenly startle the pair trying to make out in some darkened hallway with a squeak of “I’m sorry! I was just looking for an open bathroom!”

Later, when Bruce is showing the way and they’re far from the man or woman he’d been frisking, Tim would be rewarded with something more than those treats Alfred used as behavioral reinforcements. The Robin would be delighted to feast his eyes on a Batman trying not to laugh at the embarrassment of being caught. A true little grin slipping out with eyes crinkling in a way he’d only seen with the Wayne boys. (But he’d been the one to put it there… Not Dick. Not Jason. But Timothy Drake…)

Only Alfred had seen Tim continue to stalk Batman, though now it included actively knowing Bruce’s whereabouts and movements outside the armored cowl as well. (And he was sure Dick knew as well, as there were many times when the flying performer called soon as he was in Gotham to see where his dad was.)

Bruce never asked how he was found so quickly, nor of all the moments ruined due to so many “coincidental” interruptions. Sometimes it was even more entertaining than whatever he’d been doing before being cockblocked.

And as for Tim, not only did he become the Bruce Wayne informant to the other family members… His stalking gave rise to his status as Red Robin as he managed to trail after a Batman lost in time and bring back the man he’d spent his life trailing after gaining photos of every facet of this strong yet wounded child who never fully grew up from his grief.

News spread like wildfire when Damian appeared in public eye. Just who was the lucky lady? Who got a stake into the Wayne fortune? As it turned out, still the answer was only the children as there was no Mrs. Wayne and Bruce was still the flirtatious party boy he always was. (Though he was much milder compared to his early years. Children and age mellowing his boisterous nature into something… more alluring in what felt like a more mysterious charm than before.)

In a similar vein to his brothers before, the small child of bundled brimstone and hellfire snarled and snapped at whoever got close to his father. Unlike Jason, however, he held himself with more pride and arrogance that most looked upon in distaste.

(The family just saw it for the insecurity and the stumbling, awkwardness of trying to find his way in this unfamiliar territory of being a Bat that it all was. And quite frankly, it was adorable and reminded the butler and other boys of the man who sired that Demon Spawn.

That fact alone simply made it all the more heart-meltingly warm to see Papa Hedgehog huffing and comforting his bristly offspring hedgehog who was snorting and whining in irritation.)

This time only was Bruce aware that Damian was scaring off potential suitors and bedding partners. It was obvious, in the grandiose wordings and the instinctive clawing for a blade that wasn’t on him. But he couldn’t scold the child who was fumbling to change his mindset, who clung to his father for the guidance he needed. And though he had other sons who could surely take the youngest off his hands for a few hours at least…

He didn’t even think too far into the idea. It would be hurtful to pawn Damian off just for a quick fuck, when said child still had a shaky trust in him to begin with. Oh, there was hero worship there thanks to Talia’s told tales… but not the faith that Bruce would care for the boy as he’d deserved to be loved and nurtured. Not with three other boys chosen before he’d arrived. Not with his birth happening as it had. (Both the act itself, as well as the secret of a little hellion with Bruce’s genetics running around with gritted teeth and grittier hands.)

So, resigned, Bruce took to watching over his newest family addition during the parties and other events. And never mind bringing someone to the manor if he did manage to score, there would be the gawkiness of a child, or two, three or maybe even all four just staring at him from a couch or the stairs or just about anywhere, in all honesty. Eyes staring and grins teasing as questions were clumsily asked and effectively ruining any mood that was painstakingly built up.

Yes… By this point Bruce was starting to think his hand or the toys squirreled away in his closet, hidden from plain view, would be the only things to satisfy his sex life if he had such a thing anymore.

What really drove the point of it all home had been one time everyone managed to have breakfast together. Bruce had given a heaving sigh as he read an article of yet another charity ball he was scheduled to attend. Dick, being the closest, has asked just what was upsetting the man.

“Ah, nothing.” Bruce managed to say, turning the page of his newspaper with ruffled feathers. “Just wondering when it was last that I had a relationship at all. It feels like forever ago, if I recall… Mysteriously around the time you came to the manor, Dick.”

Stifled giggles and wicked smirks of accomplishment was shared out of their father’s gaze. But Jason had given a snort of glee, swallowing the bacon he’d been chewing as he spoke in a lazy but satisfied tone “Oh, geez. I wonder why…”

**Author's Note:**

> Right. My first fanfic on here. Hooray! Mostly, this is a oneshot to push the idea of the Wayne butler and kids just wanting Bruce to themselves. Sort of dark and possessive, and if I do more I've already decided it'd be a collection of oneshots. No sexual relationships to be found, folks. Or, rather, none within the BatClan. And I apologize if I don't have anyone like Cass or Duke or Harper. Most of my knowledge comes from fanfics, wikis, and a small amount of comics. Oh! And whatever tumblr likes feeding me! But yeah, I mostly focused on what I know. And what I know is limited.
> 
> If you think I'm missing a tag or the grammar or spelling is off, do let me know! Otherwise, thank you for giving this short story a shot.  
> -AquariusKaT


End file.
